Consequence
by rividori
Summary: Wilson has an accident that casts doubt over his future and tests the strength of his relationships. H/W friendship/pre-slash.


_Written for the sickwilson_fest on LiveJournal. _

_Winter theme prompt #23: Wilson has a skiing incident and is temporarily paralysed after. They don't know if he will walk again. Sam can't take it and leaves._

_Pairings: House/Wilson friendship/pre-slash, Wilson/Sam, mentioned House/Cuddy._

_Notes: Very minor spoilers for seasons 6 and 7_

* * *

Wilson sat by a window overlooking the ski village from the table where he was seated. Outside the snow was falling like a thick mist and Wilson was watching it absently when his phone alerted him to another message.

_I get it. I've made you uncomfortable._

Wilson shook his head, hit reply, and let his thumb linger over the keypad, thinking how to respond. He was distracted when Sam came over carrying a menu.

"We should come here for dinner. Their menu looks amazing…"

"Yeah we should," Wilson agreed. Sam put the menu down and paused as she looked at his phone. She reached for it. "Is he _still _sending you messages?"

"- Sam..."

"What is his problem?"

She looked at the screen, narrowing her eyes. Wilson was expecting her to ask more about it but to his relief Sam merely turned the phone off without bothering to pry any further. He really should delete his inbox too. Not that he was hiding anything but a third party might take certain things out of context.

"He's clearly over that Lisa Cuddy then if he has nothing better to do than talk to you while we're on holiday," she said handing back the phone.

"He's just annoying me to distract himself. He does that. I know he tried hard to make it work. He only came to me every five minutes to talk about it. Trust me; he's probably hurting over this."

Sam looked sceptical. "Or he could just be doing it to piss me off."

"How is that? I'm the one getting all the messages. Besides, I thought you two were getting along."

Sam laughed. "Yeah, we're the best of friends." She sat up straighter, speaking more firmly. "I don't want to talk about him. We should go and get ready…"

"Ah yes…"

The two of them left to go and fit up for the skiing lesson they'd booked and when Wilson felt he could get away with it, he pulled his phone out and sent a quick reply to House:

_Only uncomfortable when sam reads them._

* * *

Half an hour later they both made their way to the designated area for lessons. The mountain was foggy today and Wilson could hardly see what was around them. He knew they were near the beginner's slope, so that was good enough for him.

"Good day for it," Wilson commented to Sam walking beside him.

"Makes things interesting," she said with a smile.

At least she was having fun. Wilson had never skied in his life, but Sam apparently had a few more hours under her belt. He felt awkward as he walked through the snow in his tight ski boots, wondering if they really were supposed to be that tight. Near where the beginning lesson was taking place, people had begun crowding around their instructor and Wilson and Sam took their place amongst the group. It began to snow more heavily as the instructor introduced himself and began to talk about the techniques they'd be practising. They then lined up, ready to take their turn.

"It's easy." Sam remarked from behind as Wilson prepared for his turn.

"I'll let you know after this," Wilson replied, as he moved forward, sliding the skis out as he gathered momentum toward the instructor who called words of encouragement. When he turned around to see Sam follow after him, he was sure she looked much smoother than him.

"How'd I do?" Wilson asked as Sam joined him.

"A perfect ten," she said. "I told you it was easy."

Wilson laughed, shaking his head. "Yes I like this flat surface. I can't see why anyone would want to ski on an angle."

The group took it in turns to practise each of the techniques until their session finished.

"So, ready to take on the mountain?" Sam asked.

"Not really," Wilson said, half joking and feeling suddenly anxious as he watched others ski down the slope near them.

"Come on, we'll go together."

Wilson stood alongside Sam. They went on the count of three but Sam soon overtook him. He saw her dodge past a couple of people who'd slowed down and then Wilson went right past them too. He soon became aware that, beginner slope or not, this was a little too much. Coupled with the fact that the conditions were still foggy, Wilson was quickly losing confidence. He didn't feel that he was in control at all. He tried the wedge technique that he'd just learnt to slow him down but that didn't seem to help very much. Instead it only felt like he was speeding up. So he did the only thing he could think to do: he crouched down as low as he could and dropped to the ground, now skidding along the snow on his back as he tried to dig in with the skis strapped to his feet. That idea seemed simple in theory, but when his ski dug into the snow it caused him to jolt and slide sideways, rolling down the slope without being able to get a grip on anything to pull him to a stop. He strained his neck to see where he was headed and saw something looming up ahead and knew moments before the collision that he was going to hit it. In those final seconds he tried to move away from it by turning slightly but to no avail. He hit something very solid, knocking the wind out of him. He felt pain in his head and his back and he blinked, trying to keep alert against the sudden wave of fatigue. The initial pain had already subsided and now he was left in shock of what had happened.

He could hear voices, shouts, people around him, someone touching his arm…

"No, no. Don't move him! Keep him still!"

"Quickly, someone go and get help."

"What's your name?" Wilson wanted to answer but found he couldn't. "Hey, hey! _Shit._ Stay awake now…"

He tried to, but he really needed to sleep…

* * *

Sam stood at the foot of the bed, teeth clamped down on her thumbnail. Waiting. Waiting for James to wake up again.

It had been a long day from the time of the accident, to travelling to the nearby medical centre, to speaking with the doctors. Then James had come around, horrified when he'd told them of the numbness in his legs, the loss of sensation. He'd had a panic attack and they were forced to give him a sedative. After he'd calmed down, he'd insisted on the transfer back to Princeton Plainsboro but not before another round of tests and examinations had taken place to determine what they were looking at. They'd only arrived and been placed in a room twenty minutes ago. Now it was late, and she was exhausted, yet still too restless to sit down.

Sam looked up when she heard the door opening slowly and saw House enter the room. She watched him looking at James, trying to pinpoint the expression on his face. It didn't give much away.

He turned to her. "Has he woken up at all?"

Sam nodded, "For a while when we were at the medical centre."

House sighed and sat down in a chair against the wall, looking again at the man lying in the bed. "Cuddy told me there might be… swelling… temporary paralysis."

"The doctors' hope that's all it is," she said.

House sighed even louder at that, shook his head and looked down at his feet. Sam continued watching him when he looked up at her again.

"What the hell happened?"

"Well, like you were probably told, it was a skiing accident. We were skiing…" Sam didn't like that she had to explain this to him. From day one House had made it clear that he didn't trust her and she could just imagine him blaming her for this. She tried not to let those thoughts get the better of her. She took a breath and went on. "I thought he was following behind me but when I stopped and turned around to check I didn't see him. And then I saw a group of people hurrying together about half way up the slope. I went back up and it was James. He'd gone off course and hit one of the chairlift towers. Medics came, took him to the medical centre and he woke up while we were there." Sam looked back over to House who was still listening carefully. "He had an x-ray and a CT scan. Luckily he didn't need any surgery but he's already on corticosteroids for the swelling. He was kept there for a while until he said he wanted to come here. I was against it but he insisted so we came here. He's been asleep the whole time."

After she finished recounting what had happened, House didn't say another word, for which Sam was grateful. She was pacing slowly when she sensed movement from the corner of her eye and looked over to the man who was trying to lift his head up, frowning slightly.

"James," Sam whispered, moving over to him, making sure he remained still. "How are you feeling?"

"Um, a little sore." He gave a short smile and looked to House who had moved closer to them.

"I'm not surprised," Sam went on, "you've just experienced a severe trauma." She sat down on the bed and he turned his attention back to her. "I was hoping you'd wake up before I went home. I'll be back in the morning okay? I'll have to go and get all our stuff from the resort and then I'll come in. I'm going to see if I can take more time off work so I can be here if you need me." She smiled and he nodded. "You get plenty of rest and don't worry about anything. It's going to fine." She leaned in to kiss him before standing to leave. Sam couldn't bring herself to ask about anything too serious. The key was to remain positive.

When she was out in the corridor she looked back and saw House pulling his chair closer to the bed.

* * *

"Now that _she's _gone…" House began as he settled himself into his seat. "I want to hear your side of the story. You were being pursued by armed assassins on snowmobiles weren't you?"

"Yes," Wilson said, playing along. "Turns out the helicopter dropped me off at the wrong place. Before I knew it I was surrounded on all sides. I barely had time to pull my gun out of my jacket when I lost my balance and went flying."

House scoffed, "And then you had to engage in hand to hand combat right? You used the martial arts skills you never knew you had."

"I wish." Wilson smiled. "It didn't quite happen that way. Did Sam tell you?"

"Yeah. And Cuddy gave me the basics."

Wilson nodded. "Good. That means I don't need you checking me over too. I've had enough of that today."

Seeing that he was not in the mood to open up about the accident, House continued with the lighter approach.

"Hey, what were you doing letting Sam read my messages?"

House received the most scandalised look. "I wasn't _letting_ her read them."

"That's why she pushed you off the mountain. Couldn't stand the thought of you cheating on her."

"With you?" Wilson laughed. "She was right. You were trying to piss her off."

"Anyway, it was your fault. You started it."

"I didn't start anything. You were the one who said you were bored. Besides, it's _your_ fault. You were the one talking about… you know…"

"And you just couldn't help going along with it. And – and! – you were the one who put the thought in my head. You said it would cheer me up. Therefore: your fault."

"I was being sarcastic."

"Ah no. You can't use that argument. Text messages don't really have a tone of voice. How was I to know?" House grinned at Wilson's disbelieving look.

Wilson closed his eyes. "Fine. Whatever."

"Are you ignoring me now?"

"Yes." Then after a moment, "I'm going to get some more sleep now."

Wilson kept his eyes closed until he fell asleep. House's smile was long gone.

* * *

The following day, House was able to talk at better length to the doctor who saw Wilson in, and go over the test results and the treatment he'd been given in order to come up with some sort of prognosis.. The fact that the damage had occurred at the lower part of the spine was working in Wilson's favour. As was the immediate treatment he'd received, lessening the likelihood of permanent damage. This made him feel calmer as a doctor (though these things were never certain) but as Wilson's friend, he hated seeing him bed ridden and in so much uncertainty over his future. While they'd been able to have a laugh about it that first night, a few days later House soon realised that the reality of it was still sinking in. His feelings on the matter swung anywhere from pure denial to outright anger and then he could be completely calm.

He knew they'd done the best they could, and were continuing to do the best they could but it didn't mean House ever stopped thinking about it, other possibilities that could make sure Wilson recovered fully.

It was stressful, juggling the case he was working on while also thinking about Wilson. He tried to spend as much time as he could with him, something that Sam insisted was not necessary since she was the one who'd taken time off to be by his side. House simply ignored her.

"Wilson," House began, moving to the edge of his seat. "You need to consider what you're going to do next. The care you'd get at a proper centre would -"

"I don't need that," Wilson cut in. "No. I just need to wait a few more days."

"So you're just going to sit here and wait?"

"Sure. You've hardly given it any time."

"I want you to get better, but you have to try. It's no good sulking about it and expecting everything to turn out all right. And if you never walk again, well… at least you're alive. That's more important." House was sure he was making a convincing case for Wilson but the look he gave him showed no appreciation.

"That's complete _bullshit._ Maybe if _you'd_ had that attitude, it would have saved me from having to look after you!"

So now they were talking about him. "Great," he said. "Okay. Maybe I'll swap you."

"Gladly."

Wilson was staring defiantly at him and House was staring right back. He knew Wilson couldn't mean what he said. He was hurting. But House was sure that it was hurting him more to see Wilson like this than if it were him lying in the bed.

He thought about what he would say if this were one of his patients. Finally he just said, "You're an idiot," and left.

Outside Wilson's room, Chase was waiting for him. House moved past him down the corridor as Chase fell into step with him.

"Patient said she's considering the surgery but that she needs more time," he said.

"Tell her she's got two options: life or death."

"Yeah, she doesn't see it that way."

House made no comment as they stepped in front of the elevator and House jabbed the button to take them back to his office. He wrapped his fingers repeatedly over the handle of his cane and rubbed the back of his thumb over his forehead. He looked up when he felt Chase staring at him.

"What?" He said shortly, eyes widening in question.

Chase cleared his throat. "How's Wilson?"

"He's pirouetting around his room as we speak," he said, looking Chase in the eye before turning away.

"I was only asking." Chase said, defending himself.

"You asked a stupid question."

The elevator doors opened and he stepped inside the empty car. Chase followed him and when the doors closed shut in front of them House said softly, "Wilson's in denial."

Chase looked across at him as House stared again at the floor. "Hmm." Chase nodded solemnly. "Maybe…" he began, and House looked up at him, "maybe you should say something. It might make it easier for him if you tell him…" Chase raised his eyebrows and rolled his hand over several times through the air as if House was supposed to guess the rest.

"Tell him what?"

Chase shrugged, and then smiled. "Everything."

House stared at him, frowning. "What are you talking about?"

At that, Chase faltered. "What are _you _talking about?"

"Wilson being an idiot because he thinks he's going to get better overnight."

"Oh." Chase looked away as the doors opened and he stepped off onto the fourth floor. "Never mind."

* * *

Wilson turned away from where House had been moments before, pushing his face into the pillow and biting his bottom lip, trying and failing to keep the tears at bay. He hadn't cried at all since the accident had happened, and now, for some reason, it had all become too much; the hurt and fear and uncertainty finally overwhelming him.

He heard the door to his room sliding across and he brought his hand up to wipe his face before looking to see who it was.

Cuddy was standing before him, expressing an awkward, apologetic smile. "Hi," she said.

"Hi."

She moved closer, looking him over. "Sorry I haven't given you a proper visit. You know how it gets. House has been keeping me up to date. And I've spoken with Sam as well. You don't need to worry about any of your responsibilities here either. Even though you're due back next week, everything's been taken care of."

"Thanks. Yes, my staff have wished me well."

Cuddy moved closer. "Well, this is one way of getting out of all the office holiday parties."

"True. But what a way to do it. Next time I might just stick to snowshoeing."

They small-talked their way through work and then Wilson's condition, with Cuddy telling him that things seemed promising so far. There was one thing Wilson wanted to get some clarification on though. Not that he wanted to seem like some busybody, but House had made it his business ever since he and Cuddy started dating. He was invested, however reluctantly. And House had not said much about it, just that they were no longer seeing each other.

"I was surprised to hear about you and House. I'm really sorry you couldn't –"

Cuddy held up a hand, "You don't have to pretend for my sake. I know you were trying to be a good friend but I also knew you were doubtful."

Wilson didn't like the way that sounded. "That doesn't mean I didn't want the best for you."

"I know that. It's okay. We had our doubts too."

That didn't give much away. "So what was it in the end? The lie or the double lie?"

Cuddy looked at Wilson curiously, speaking after a moment. "I didn't break it off."

Wilson stared at her blankly. He could kick himself. "He didn't tell me anything…"

She shrugged. "Like I said, I had my doubts from the beginning and so did he."

"I guess… but that doesn't seem to make any sense."

She smiled, and placed a comforting hand on Wilson's shoulder. "All I know is that when I told him you were here, he… well, he cares about you. Sometimes it's all too easy to see."

* * *

Sam had had no choice but to go back to work after the first week. She couldn't afford any more time off after already extending her holiday leave, and it now put an extra level of burden on her time and energy. As she rounded the corner towards James's room, she recognised one of the doctors she'd spoken to before and stopped him for a private word. He removed his glasses to look at her properly.

"After two weeks we would hope, in these sorts of situations, that if the damageis temporary we would start to see some improvement… some movement or sensation. It's still possible that he can recover, of course, so we need to give it more time. We might not see anything substantial for six months."

"But the longer it takes…"

The doctor nodded, "The longer it takes before we see improvement could mean a higher chance that he'll need extensive rehabilitation. And in those cases he may not be able to walk unaided again, so of course we want to see something happening very soon."

This was not the news she'd wanted to hear. She'd been doing her best to keep positive, especially for James's sake, and perhaps just as equally, for House's sake. She was not about to break down in front of _him_, even though every day she started to lose her positivity, started losing sight of all the plans they had ahead. She could no longer see past next week, and when she did take the time to look ahead ten years from now, she did not see the life she had envisioned; instead she saw the worst case scenario and all the changes that would need to be made. She tried to stop those thoughts as best she could but it was becoming increasingly harder to remove her doubts. Worse than all of this was that she had begun feeling defensive of her relationship, obliged to stick around and prove to House that she cared more for James than he did; to prove that she would see him through this ordeal. She denied this of course, but it was still there in the back of her mind.

When she arrived at his room, two nurses were helping him into a wheelchair, as he wanted to go for a more prolonged course around the hospital other than to radiology or the cafeteria. Sam moved to take hold of the chair but was told very firmly by him that he could deal with it on his own.

Cool wind hit them as they made their way out into the grounds and Sam held the collar of her jacket to her neck. They found somewhere under cover and out of the weather to sit and breathe in the fresh air. Sam watched James put his hands by his sides, then deciding against that, placed them on his lap.

They spoke about everyday things, the simple and the boring, the necessary and the trivial. Anything.

"I called your parents again," Sam said, "they're going to come and see you as soon as the airport reopens."

"Mmm. I spoke to them this morning."

"Yes, well, I get the feeling they'd rather speak to you than me. Besides they seem to be well informed." He turned to her and she paused, waiting to see if he would say something.

"Did you know that House has been talking to them?" she asked.

"No I didn't."

"Well apparently he has."

"They might've called him."

Sam hadn't thought of that and she disliked that idea even more. It was this unreasonable frustration with House that made her aware that she had still not come to terms with the reality of what was happening. She was beginning to wonder how long she could keep this up. Maybe she was not as strong as she thought she was, and that the strength that had kept her going had been for all the wrong reasons. It was not love that was keeping her here; it was some sort of internal grudge against House.

"I keep hoping that I'll wake up and it'll just be gone. And I'll be fine again."

The words startled her from her thoughts as James looked at her, his eyes searching her own, perhaps expecting to hear her words of comfort.

"You will be," she said.

He said he was tired then, so they headed back inside, Sam steering the wheelchair, glad he could not see her guilty expression.

* * *

They were alone.

Sam took a deep breath, ready to do this. She had talked herself into it now, after days of thinking it through. All her justifications sounded weak in her mind, but how could she ever try to explain that she had doubted her loyalty when she'd looked upon the x-rays and scans; that it seemed like fate had been sealed when she'd heard that he may never walk again?

She blinked back tears as she leaned in and kissed him. "Sorry," she said, wiping her eyes, apologising for the display. "It's been a long day. Goodnight, James." She kissed him one last time before gathering her things. When she was at the door she looked back at him.

"Bye, Sam."

It was as simple as that, as she turned from him and made her way out the door.

* * *

House was standing with Taub and Masters outside Cuddy's office when he saw Sam moving quickly towards the exit. House went after her, moving to try and intercept her around the front desk, but she saw him and picked up her pace, walking outside.

"Hey!" he called, and he managed to stop her before he had to take on the icy footpath. "What happened?" he asked.

"Nothing. Goodnight."

"Where are you going?"

"Home."

"What? Not camping by Wilson's bed with your 'keep out' sign?"

"I never stopped you from seeing him. I wouldn't _dare_."

"Where are you going?" House asked again, waiting for her to tell him something new, something that explained her sudden evasive behaviour, but he got nothing as she turned her back and kept going. "You're sneaking away aren't you?" he called out. "You're leaving him without telling him you're leaving him. Again."

Sam turned on her heel and strode back to him, "Shut up, House. I'm not answering to you." She looked to her side at the people staring as they passed by.

"I could have seen you doing this a few months from now but not this soon. I suppose the 'devoted girlfriend' thing I've seen you doing this whole time was just an act."

"You can think whatever you like."

"Oh good, does that mean I can _tell_ Wilson whatever I like? How you didn't care to even see if he got better before walking out? Didn't want to live with him, didn't want to be responsible for him. That's going to come across_ really_ well, buy hey, if it means he'll never think twice about you again –"

"You could say that," Sam agreed, "but I know you won't. You won't say those things for the same reason I'm not. I could give James all the reasons in the world but it won't be good enough. It would still hurt."

House could see that she was trying to defend her decision but in his eyes whether she told him she was leaving or not was irrelevant. The fact remained the same: "You're taking the easy way out now that life might not be so perfect."

He expected some sort of comeback but she said nothing; biting down on her lip, clearly struggling with her emotions.

Then she walked away.

* * *

Wilson saw House approach his door and he felt that strange, almost shy sort of feeling. The one that told him he was not looking at him as a friend. The one that told him he'd be perfectly okay if he and House did all the things they'd never done before. The one that he'd tried to put a stop to over the years, and normally would, except that Cuddy's comments had made him reconsider. A lot of things had made him reconsider…

"I finished my case and saved the day!" House announced as he entered the room.

"That's great."

"It was nothing, really." House sat down. "So how's my second favourite cripple?"

House teased, but Wilson could tell he was hiding the fact that he knew, that he must have seen her on her way out and spoken to her.

"She left didn't she?"

House shifted in his seat. "Yep. You knew?"

"I had a feeling."

House eyed him seriously. "You'll be better off." Wilson nodded his agreement but House only looked more severe. "Seriously, Wilson, get angry. Throw a… pillow or do something, or get a nurse in here and throw a pillow at them."

"Why?" Wilson smiled. "I'm sure you got angry for me. And I'll be fine. She can go if she wants."

He was surprised that he could be so casual about it. Perhaps the betrayal of her leaving would hit him soon and he would be more upset about it, but that didn't mean he would miss her.

House lifted his cane and let it slip through his fingers with a thud to the floor, huffing, "I don't want to talk about her."

Wilson was okay with a change of topic. He began with something important. "I'm starting my rehabilitation therapy soon. The latest news is the injury has healed so hopefully I'll see some benefits from that." Wilson laughed off his insecurity about it because it was all he could do.

When House responded after a moment with a soft and genuine "You've got me," Wilson looked into the face of his best friend and believed him.

It was all there for him to see.


End file.
